Faces
by PsiRadish
Summary: Naive? Perhaps. Idealistic? Without doubt. But innocent? I assure you not. Listen to my tale of a young woman oft misunderstood and learn the truth you may never have expected.
1. Prepared

**Chapter 1 - Prepared**

The bells on the vest jingled as his arms came around her, his lips touching her neck. Training was over for today, it seemed, and it was time to move on to other business.

There had been no discussion of payment at all so far. She had thought of bringing it up herself several times, but always stopped herself for fear of what the answer might be. They were not words she wanted to hear aloud.

He turned her around slowly to face him, kissing twice along her cheek before reaching her lips. There his kisses continued as he guided her to the bedroom.

She was prepared, however. More prepared than she expected to be, in fact, after experiencing just how charming he could be. Though in truth she'd been prepared long before she brewed herself the nararoot tea that morning.

Her mouth opened at his insistence, her tongue moving over his clean straight teeth, her nose breathing in deeply. The scent of soap still lingered on him, just as it had the day she first met him.

She'd been prepared even before she chose her teacher.

* * *

"So, why do you want to be a thief, Nalia De'Arnise?" 


	2. Brown Eyes

**Chapter 2 - Brown Eyes**

"Thief."

He spun around to see the same face for the ninth time that day. He quickly drew his dagger. "So you have been following me. Why?" He smiled, continuing jovially, "Not trying to play vigilante, are you?"

She stood there a moment, merely returning his gaze. Brown eyes. He preferred blue, but they were rather nice as brown went. Expressive. She was young, maybe sixteen or seventeen, slim and fairly well-shaped by the slightly close-fitting dress she wore. Wavy red hair fell just past her shoulders, framing a face that was prettier than most.

"I want you to train me as a thief," she finally said.

His eyebrows rose theatrically. Her hair was clean. Her face was clean. Her dress was plain, as was her cloak, but they were clean. He always liked a woman who could keep herself clean, and he knew quite well that such women rarely have any need to learn thievery. Cleanliness and wealth went hand-in-hand – himself being the exception, he noted ruefully.

A spoiled rich kid seeking excitement like so many he'd seen before? If it was such a whim it was a well-planned one. An inconspicuous set of clothes, waiting to meet in a shaded alley, and somehow he suspected he was not the only thief she'd followed around for a day before making her choice. She did rather well for an untrained thief-to-be, he realized.

Brown eyes. Expressive. She looked like more than a spoiled rich kid.

"I'll pay you anything you ask," she said as his silence dragged on.

Fith's eyebrows stayed forcibly still. Did she really mean to say it like that? "Anything?" he asked.

"Anything," she repeated. At the very least it was clear she wasn't trying to pass off as copperless.

Expressive. Determined. She was definitely more than a spoiled rich kid.

"What's your name, kid?" he asked her, finally sheathing his dagger.

"Nimi," she answered. "Yours?"

"Fith. Is that your real name?" he continued.

"Is that yours?" she returned, an eyebrow slightly raised.

He grinned slowly. "When would you like your training to start, Nimi?"

"I'm free next second-day," she answered.

"Very well," he responded, wondering why he was being such an idiot. "We'll meet at the Five Flagons second-day morning." This was exactly how old thieves got themselves killed, trusting young big-eyed assassins sent by old enemies. "Is that alright with you, my lady?" Well, perhaps it wasn't exactly like the stories, but it was damned close enough.

"That will be fine, my lord," she returned his formality, and he couldn't be certain if there was cheek in it or not. "It's been a pleasure to meet you," she continued, extending her hand. He shook it, and she bid him farewell.

Nimi. Brown eyes. Who was she? He hoped to know by their next meeting.

Her hand had a ring on it.


	3. Anything

**Chapter 3 - Anything**

Her hair fanned around her head as she spun to face him. "How do you know my name?" she demanded, her right hand clasping something hidden behind her cloak. A weapon, no doubt.

Fith closed the door to his home behind him, smiling in what he hoped was a calming manner. "You should not have worn your signet ring if you wished to hide your identity, my lady."

She proceeded to curse herself in an astonishingly un-ladylike fashion, then returned her attention to him with a glare. "Now that you know who I am what do you intend to do? I warn you, I am trained in both magic and the sword."

Fith raised an eyebrow. What did she expect of him? Holding her for ransom? His smile became genuinely amused as he realized he hadn't even thought of such a thing until now; he just wasn't that kind of outlaw. He'd only wanted to know what the look on her face would be when he called her by her real name.

"And now you want training in thievery," he replied. "You are ambitious, aren't you? Well, you have no need to worry, my lady. I intend only to provide you the training you wish." He opened the door again and stood away from it. "If you've any doubt, you are free to leave, with my well wishes."

She studied him intently, and he prayed she saw his sincerity. He was not satisfied with merely knowing her name. Her identity was but a small part of the mystery that surrounded her. "I will believe you," she finally said, her stance relaxing somewhat. "For now," she amended.

"Wonderful!" he said enthusiastically, closing the door once again. "I would be quite hurt to see such a fair lady as you flee from my home so soon after entering it. It would not speak well of my hospitality."

She pinked slightly. "I did not come here to be flattered," she said, mostly succeeding at sounding cross.

Fith grinned. "I'm afraid you will have to become used to receiving flattery where ever you go, miss, or otherwise go mad." Pink turned to red and Fith's grin widened. "But no, that is not why you are here, which reminds me. I have answered your question, now what of mine? Why do you want to be a thief, my lady?"

She sighed and appeared to be debating over whether to answer. "I want to help people," she finally said as she unclasped her cloak and looked for a place to hang it.

Fith folded his own cloak over a chair by way of demonstration. "Help people?" he asked.

She nodded. "The needy and less fortunate," she continued, dropping her cloak over the chair next to her. She wore a plain pants and tunic under it, today.

"Steal from the rich to give to the poor, eh?" he asked, noticing a hint of sarcasm had entered his voice. "And why can't you give of your own possessions, Nalia?"

She smiled, but it did not touch her eyes. "My own possessions are not mine to do with as I wish. My Aunt has put locks on anything of value in the keep." She laughed humorlessly. "Including me. I am not allowed to leave without her or father's permission, though she knows nothing of the keep's hidden passages and I can find my own way out." Her empty smile became a smirk as she continued, "She does not…approve of how I would spend my free time."

Fith's eyebrows rose and he answered without sarcasm, "It sounds to me as if you could use some help yourself, my lady."

Nalia's smile faded and she shook her head. "I am clothed and fed, with a comfortable bed and a roof over my head. I am without need of anything."

It wasn't true. Fith could feel it, though he could not say why for certain. This girl whose eyes did not smile, this girl who wanted to be a thief, was not without need. This girl who was willing to pay anything.

_"Anything?"_

_"Anything."_

But he wouldn't ask that of her. He was better than that.

She moved like silk. Could snap like a whip. He liked a woman who could move better than he could.

_"Anything."_

But he wouldn't ask that of her. He was better than that.

She made stupid mistakes, but learned quickly. Very quickly. Her intelligence was astounding.

_"Anything."_

But he wouldn't ask that of her. He was better than that.

He flirted shamelessly, and before long she flirted back. He found himself on the losing side of their banter more often than not. And he loved it.

_"Anything."_

But he wouldn't ask that of her. He was better than that.

She laughed easily. Almost too easily. Something about it seemed desperate. He pitied her, even as he told himself he had no reason to.

_"Anything."_

She was a mystery. And he wanted her. But he was better than that.

_"Anything."_

The bells on the vest jingled as his arms came around her, his lips touching her neck. Her easy acquiescence, her enthusiasm made it easy for him to believe she accepted him freely. That he wasn't taking advantage of her.

Because he wouldn't ask that of her. He was better than that.


	4. Faces

**Chapter 4 - Faces**

The sex was great.

He was extremely attentive and almost frustratingly gentle.

And now he held her as she idly gazed at the ceiling, laying a few chaste kisses on her shoulder.

It was nice.

"Forgive me, my lady," he finally spoke, his voice mirthful and perhaps even a little awed, "but I do not believe this was your first time."

Nalia wondered if she should be offended. Instead she just laughed. "It most certainly wasn't," she said, unable to stop a hint of wicked pride from mixing with her amusement. She turned to see one of his eyebrows prominently raised and laughed again. "Would you like to hear a story?" she asked him sweetly.

"And what story would that be?" he asked uncertainly.

"A story I've been able to tell to but a few, and far too few at that. The story of one of the greatest moments of my life," she said, her voice taking on a slightly theatrical lilt.

"Should I be feeling inadequate, Nalia darling?" he said even more uneasy.

Now it was Nalia's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Please, hardly." She rolled her eyes. "It has nothing to do with that," she reassured. "Well, not **nothing**, but…just let me tell the story."

"As you wish, my lady," he said, sounding a bit more certain of himself.

"Okay, so…," Nalia faltered. The beginning of the story was extremely unpleasant. Utterly awful, in fact. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to continue. "Some two months ago I was betrothed," Nalia thought she felt Fith tense briefly, but hastily dismissed the notion, "to an absolute brat of a man." She scowled at the ceiling. "He is the absolute worst kind of noble; selfish, arrogant, insensitive, pig-headed, sniveling, prissy, stupid, orcish-"

"I think I understand, my lady," Fith interrupted softly.

Taking a moment to calm herself Nalia continued. "My aunt couldn't have been more pleased, of course. His family is wealthy and powerful, after all. She was clucking like a hen for days, telling me how fortunate I was and we were and lecturing me on…," Nalia searched for a polite way to put it and finally gave up. "On how not to screw it up," she said harshly. "I mostly managed to block her out – else I'm certain I would have struck her with something long and heavy before the end of the first day – but one day, Ogmha knows why, she started off on the importance of me preserving my 'purity' for my future husband."

Nalia laughed darkly. "The thought of Isaea Roenall being the first man I lay with made me want to throw up." She paused. "More so than thought of laying with him, period, did, anyway. I still don't know how I'll avoid the latter, but I decided then I would do anything I could to prevent the former."

"Are you certain this is a happy story, my lady?" Fith interjected. "It only seems to be making you upset," he said, turning her face towards him and looking at her with concerned eyes.

"It gets better," Nalia answered, wishing she didn't sound like she were trying to convince herself. "There was a man, a commoner, quite handsome, and charming," she said, pleased to notice her smile was returning. "He delivered messages to the keep from our residence here in the city, often spending the night at the keep before returning, and often one of our more attractive maids spent the night with him." She grinned widely. "It proved surprisingly easy to convince him to spend one night with the young lady of the keep, instead."

"I don't find that very surprising at all," Fith said with a grin of his own.

Nalia felt herself pink and looked away. "Hush, I'm not finished yet."

"I beg your forgiveness, my lady, please continue."

Nalia turned back with a mock glare before smiling once again. "Well…the experience was…satisfactory," she blushed again. "But the best part…" she said, trailing off deliberately.

"Yes?" Fith prompted her.

Nalia's grin almost lept off her face as she continued, "was when I told my Aunt **exactly** what I did." Fith's eyes widened appreciatively, and Nalia almost cackled with glee. "Her face turned **so** red," she said, joyfully drawing out each word. "And her mouth," she opened and closed her mouth soundlessly in demonstration, "Like a fish!" Then Nalia did cackle. "She couldn't say **anything**, so then…," another laugh, and a blush, "I started describing h-how he made love to me." She put a hand over her mouth, still not entirely believing her own audacity. She snickered. "Didn't get very far before she finally found her voice, and screamed at me to get out of her sight. When I got back to my room I think I laughed until I almost passed out." She sighed happily as she looked into Fith's eyes, smiling back at her.

"That is quite a story," he said. "Though I notice you spoke of the messenger in past tense. Nothing happened to him, I hope?"

"Of course not, I wouldn't let him be hurt. My aunt is too self-absorbed to even notice we have a regular messenger, and I think she's trying to pretend it never happened, anyway, so he's safe. I've seen him at the residence a few times since then, he just traded his messenger duties with someone else."

"What about your father?" Fith asked. "What did he think of all this?"

Nalia's smile disappeared. "I don't know," she said, looking down. When she looked back up she saw questions in his eyes, questions she had no desire to answer even if she knew how.

"So…," he finally said, looking down and moving a hand along the chain around her neck. "Ilmater," he finished, holding the holy symbol at the end of the chain between his fingers.

"Yes. What of it?" she asked defensively.

"I don't mean to question your faith, my lady," he said apologetically. "It is just rare to see a noble worship the Crying God."

Nalia studied him with narrow eyes for a moment longer before she decided he was being sincere. Or at least not trying to mock her. She couldn't really blame him for doubting. If she saw another noble wearing the symbol of Ilmater she would doubt, too. "Well…it's also rare to hear a thief who talks like you," she finally said.

He looked affronted. "Wot? You ken every dimber damber should be cawwin' in cant all da time, den?" He smiled as Nalia laughed. "A thief has many voices, my lady," he said, brushing a hand through Nalia's bangs.

"Hmm. And a noble has many faces," Nalia recited to herself.

"Without doubt, my lady, though I do rather like the one you have now," Fith said, grinning as he brought his face closer to hers.

"You…you know you don't have to call me 'my lady', Fith," Nalia stammered after he kissed her.

"I know, but I rather like it," he said, kissing her again. "Besides, my father called my mother his lady, and she had as much noble blood as a church mouse."

"I see," she said, not sure what to think of that seemingly easy association. When he kissed her again her arms went around his neck as she decided she was tired of thinking, anyway. Soon after, his hand drifted away from her necklace to settle somewhere far more interesting.

They made love twice more that night. Three would become their average.


	5. Better

**Chapter 5 - Better**

Nalia turned around as she pulled her shirt the rest of the way down. She was certain she had felt his eyes on her, but he was facing away, asleep by all appearances, though he'd been awake but a minute ago.

The moment she'd gotten out of the bed it had all changed.

She was putting on her clothes so she could walk out his door and into the night. Leaving him there, alone, as she went to the De'Arnise city residence where she would spend her night, also alone. What had been so amazingly easy to forget when she was in his bed, in his arms, was now mercilessly clear.

She supposed if they really were lovers she might have done something similar as this to avoid suspicion, but that did nothing to change how it felt now. The simple fact was they weren't lovers, and she was…

She swept herself from the room, passing the chair with her cloak, smoothly throwing it around her shoulders on the way to the door. She opened it and stepped out into the nightlife of the docks district.

It was not so dangerous as many would believe. Those with skill prowled where there was money to be had. Muggers left in the docks were desperate men, untrained and poorly equipped. She was neither, and she carried herself with the confidence of one who knew it.

And tonight she carried something else with her, as well. Something she had foolishly hoped she could leave behind at Fith's doorstep. She stopped before a middle-aged woman in heavy make-up and just as little clothing. A harlot, rubbing her arms as she desperately looked for a customer just so she could get out of the cold.

'_I'm no better than her, now,'_ Nalia thought. And she slowly began to smile.

"Hey, what are you starin' an' smilin' at! Don't be gettin' any ideas, lady, I only work men!"

Nalia blushed. "My apologies, I wasn't…nevermind." She came closer and pushed a gold piece into the woman's hand. "Is this enough to get you out of the cold for a while?"

The woman's mouth flapped soundlessly as she looked into her hand, eyes wide. Nalia quickly moved on before she could find her voice, her step feeling much lighter than it had in a long time.


	6. Cute

**Chapter 6 - Cute**

Nalia stepped in a puddle.

With the reflexes of a panther Fith leapt away from the three or four droplets that splashed in his direction, intent on his boots. Grunting as he collided with the close wall of the alley, he took a moment to verify he had escaped from the onslaught of water unscathed before pushing off the wall and returning to a very puzzled and increasingly amused Nalia's side.

"Why did you do that, my lady?" he asked, looking just short of traumatized.

"Step in the puddle?" Nalia shrugged. "Why not?" she asked as they resumed walking.

Fith scowled. "Well, first, it's noisy…"

"And talking isn't?" Nalia raised an eyebrow.

"And second," Fith continued, though in a slightly quieter voice, "it's _dirty_." He spoke the last word as if it were a creature from the foulest depths of the abyss.

"It's just water, Fith," Nalia said, a smile tugging at her lips.

"It's _dirty_ water. Off the _ground_. Do you have any idea how often they clean the streets in alleys like these? Just three ticks shy of never."

"Oh, pish posh," Nalia swatted at the air. "Why, I'm sure they're clean enough to eat off of."

Fith looked like he was going to throw up. Nalia laughed.

* * *

"Gentle…steady…just like that," Fith whispered in her ear, close enough for his lips to brush against it. "Make her open up for you."

Nalia frowned at the lock she was trying to pick. "Could you stop that?"

He chuckled. "A thief needs to be able to work under distraction, my lady," he whispered into her other ear now, his hand on her opposite shoulder, thumb moving in gentle circles on her neck.

"I seriously doubt this is the kind of distraction I'll ever have to deal with, Fith," she said crossly.

He chuckled again before returning his lips to her ear. "One kind serves as well as another. Or better than none at all, at least. Now, that poor lock is yearning for your touch. You won't deny her, will you?"

Suppressing a groan of irritation Nalia returned her attention to the lock, biting her lip as she tried her hardest to ignore the feel – reminiscent of the wonderful attention he would pay her ears under very different circumstances – and sound – a bedroom voice to make any male prostitute envious – and words – an endless string of innuendo that from anyone else would have only been obnoxiously childish – of Fith's continued encouragement.

An eternity later she felt the lock finally give, and slowly turned the knob, the back door of the middle class jewelry store opening a few inches to quietly declare her success. She closed it again shortly after, then managed to take Fith by surprise and pin him to the worn cobbles of the alley.

Her lips descended on his, quickly cutting off whatever words of shock he was about to utter, and for the next several minutes Fith managed to forget any concerns he had over how dirty the ground was.

* * *

Nalia's head rested on Fith's chest in a position to hear his heartbeat. Added to it was the sound of him yawning, the knuckles of his outstretched hand sliding against the headboard before stopping at her belt. With a curious expression on his face he carefully picked it up from where it had fallen looped around the bedpost and brought it down for a closer look.

Pausing briefly to see if she had any objections, he loosened the button on one of the many pouches adorning the belt and looked inside. Nalia giggled as he twitched slightly, his face scrunching in disgust. "Nalia, darling, what in the world is this?"

"Spell components. It's a mage belt."

He jerked, and she suspected the only thing stopping him from throwing the belt away was the knowledge that it would make a mess. With nimble fingers she closed the pouch again and took the belt out of his hands, sparing him any further conflict. "I did tell you I was a mage," she said with a teasing smile.

"Well, yes, but I thought you might have been…," he trailed off nervously.

"Lying?" she suggested, somewhat grumpily.

"Bluffing," he corrected, as if it made a world of difference.

"I don't look like I could be a mage, is that it?" she asked, though with more worry than anger.

"No, no!" he reassured her. "You, uh…you…So how powerful a mage are you, my lady? Exactly?" he asked, his nervousness returning.

Nalia pouted as Fith's fear of magic – shared by almost everyone in Amn – was quickly becoming more annoying than cute. "Oh, powerful enough to turn you into a toad, certainly," she told him.

He flinched visibly, though managed to ask in a fairly nonchalant tone, "Really?"

"Oh yes," she confirmed, sitting up to loom over him, a wicked smile growing on her face. "A _slimy_ toad, in a _filthy_ swamp, that eats _disease_-ridden flies!"

He flinched again with each statement, finally leaping from the bed at the last, hands held out in an unconscious plea for mercy. The hands fell as he witnessed Nalia begin to laugh, then lifted again as his arms crossed. "You're making fun of me," he noted casually.

Nalia nodded.

"You can't really turn me into a toad, can you, my lady?" he asked, mostly managing to sound as if he already knew the answer.

Nalia shook her head, adding as her laughter died down, "No. Though I could shrink you."

He blinked, and almost looked more worried than before. "All of me, or…?"

Nalia rolled her eyes. "Yes, **all** of you. To half the size you are now." Why that news caused him such visible relief she wasn't sure she wanted to know. Dismissing her confusion, she continued, "But I **wouldn't**, Fith. You have no reason to be afraid of me."

He scratched his head. "Of course. I knew that," he said in a tone that confessed the opposite, along with an appropriate amount of embarrassment.

Nalia gave him a warm smile, which soon turned mischievous. "That is, unless you don't return to this bed right this instant. It's become dreadfully cold with just me in it."

"Really?" he asked in a tone that certainly wasn't nonchalant. "Dreadfully cold, my lady?"

"Indeed. It will need to be warmed up again."

"I see. And if I refuse you will…shrink me?"

"Yes."

He grinned. "I've never had a lady force herself on me on threat of shrinkage before."

"No?" she asked, as if surprised.

"No. Though I suppose I shall be thankful the lady is such a fair one," he said as he approached the bed.

And he was.


End file.
